


A Moment to Steal

by sanerontheinside



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Blindfolds, Kink Meme, Light Bondage, M/M, Overstimulation, Semi-Public Sex, Written for the QuiObi Writing Discord, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanerontheinside/pseuds/sanerontheinside
Summary: just some snippets for the NSFW version of our server challenge 😏
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52
Collections: QuiObi Writing Discord Prompt Fills





	1. Index

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Index of works for easy navigation, prompt and relevant tags 
> 
> ~~at least, I hope the index will ultimately prove necessary~~ 🤭😏

The following is an index of chapters posted in this work, listed with prompt and relevant tags: 

  1. Chapter 2:  
Prompt: _You’re more sensitive than usual.  
_ relevant tags: bondage, blindfold, overstimulation   
  

  2. Chapter 3:   
Prompt: _Here? What if someone sees us?_  
relevant tags: overstimulation, semi-public sex  

  3. Chapter 4:   
Prompt: _I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken._  
relevant tags: au - fantasy setting, royalty au  
  

  4. Chapter 5:   
Prompt: _Does it make you nervous when I stare?_  
relevant tags: edging  
  

  5. Chapter 6:   
Prompt: _Hands behind your back._   
relevant tags: slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex 



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy reading!


	2. "You're more sensitive than usual"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light bondage, blindfold, overstimulation

“You’re more sensitive than usual.” 

Qui-Gon is grinning at him—Obi-Wan can hear it in his voice. 

Obi-Wan stares up at the ceiling, unseeing, gasping like he’s run a mile. The blindfold—Qui-Gon’s sash—feels soft and warm. Qui-Gon runs light fingertips up and down his shivering body: up to the hollow of his throat, down the centerline of his chest. Each time, Qui-Gon’s fingers skim closer and closer to his cock, and even though Obi-Wan knows what’s coming, he can’t stop it. Wouldn’t even want to, but as it is his legs are bound to the footboard and his hands are tied up above him. 

Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth and pinned his hips to the bed, doing his level best to drive Obi-Wan out of his mind. The fingertip that now traces his cock from root to tip is dry with a faint rasp of roughened skin, a delicious contrast to cooling wet. 

A high, reedy sound escapes Obi-Wan’s throat against his will, and Qui-Gon laughs. It sends a fresh wave of heat through him, the laughter, and Obi-Wan bites his lip. 

“What other sounds can I get you to make, hm?” 

Qui-Gon’s hand wraps around him, almost too tight, and Obi-Wan tenses up. The feeling of Qui-Gon’s thumb teasing his slit is one thing, but the rough edge of it on his glans has his mouth falling open on a rough, near-silent gasp. 

Obi-Wan knows what’s coming; still, when Qui-Gon strokes over his cock he hisses sharply. 

“That’s it,” Qui-Gon coaxes, “come on.” 

It takes little to get him hard, where Qui-Gon is concerned. Everything is sharp and overbright, and just this side of too much, and Obi-Wan _needs_ this, needs it because he’s gone months without Qui-Gon’s touch. 

And Qui-Gon knows exactly what to give him. 


	3. "Here? What if someone sees us?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> semi-public sex, overstimulation

“Here? What if someone sees us?”

“Didn’t bother you a minute ago,” Qui-Gon murmured into his neck, burying his nose into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s soft, soft skin. But he rested his fingertips on Obi-Wan’s waistband, stilling them there, and waited for permission to continue. 

Obi-Wan gave it to him with a thin whine and pressed his hips forward. Seized by a wicked thought, Qui-Gon didn't slip his hand in, as he’d wanted to, but laid it over the front of Obi-Wan’s leggings instead. 

“Ah, you naughty thing,” Qui-Gon murmured into the sensitive skin beneath his ear, flicked his tongue against that soft and delicate spot that always made Obi-Wan shudder hard against him. “You like this, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan would rut against Qui-Gon’s palm if he let him. The realisation is a heady one: that Knight Kenobi trusts him implicitly, enough to lose himself like this just a couple steps outside of a crowded room. 

Qui-Gon put his lips against the shell of Obi-Wan's ear, and dropped his voice still lower, quieter—a harsh, tantalising whisper. “What would they think, Knight Kenobi, if they could see you like this? Grinding your needy cock into my hand just like this, until you come in your pants like that first time?”

He pulled back just enough to see Obi-Wan’s face then: eyes shut tight and teeth clenched together, a rictus of overwhelming sensation. Qui-Gon imagined how sensitive he still must be from what they’d done only hours earlier, imagined how it must feel to grind against cloth. 

“That’s it,” he whispered and mercilessly pressed in harder. Obi-Wan pitched forward and buried a noise in his shoulder that left him burning. “Can you come like this?” 


	4. “I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au - fantasy setting, royalty au

Of all the places Obi-Wan had ever thought to find himself, on his knees in front of his sovereign and commander as a traitor was the last place he would’ve expected. He’d followed the orders of his superior officer, who’d in turn followed the orders of  _ his _ commander. That commander had been a noble-born, one who had decided to attempt a quick power-grab—a fast and bloody coup. 

Obi-Wan’s time had very much run out. After all, there was no way Lord Jinn could possibly allow such a daring enemy to survive. He could not allow those men to survive, even if they hadn't known what the purpose of their orders was. He could not allow the most talented of their officers to survive, certainly not even one of Obi-Wan’s skill and renown. Even if the two of them had known each other for years, trained together under the same tutors, and been very good friends for all of those years. 

A pity that they’d ended up on opposite sides in the latest conflict. 

“Take me as a prize.” 

_ “What?” _

Lord Jinn stared at him, appalled. 

“I said, take me as a prize,” Obi-Wan repeated patiently. “Dress me up as your concubine, I don’t care.”

Qui-Gin said nothing. Obi-Wan felt the back of his neck heat under that intense stare. 

“It would be seen as suitable degradation for a traitor,” Obi-Wan added dully, and shrugged. 

The silence still stretched out, tense and fairly ringing with it. Finally there was the sound of Lord Jinn taking a step forward. And then another step. 

“What makes you think you can just say such things, while down on your knees in front of me?”

Obi-Wan had never heard Qui-Gon’s voice like this: dangerously soft, full of unnamable threat. He was so astonished by the tone that he had barely understood the words. His face felt hot, but it was no longer embarrassment and humiliation. No, it was—trepidation. Obi-Wan couldn’t think of anything else to call it. 

“You are in no position to make demands.” 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered. 

He should’ve been paying more attention to the words. 

In a quick darting movement, Qui-Gon sank long fingers into his hair and caught him up by the uniform, dragging Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan found himself shoved hard against a wall, wind knocked out of him by the impact. Still not quite understanding, he gasped for breath, vaguely and automatically struggling against the heavy hand on his chest. 

But then he looked up. He saw the long-familiar bright blue eyes, the intensity in Qui-Gon’s expression. 

The air between them ignited. 

They’d danced around this for years. Obi-Wan, certain in his duty, his place, and his purpose, nevertheless found himself pining for his Lord and Commander. He was thrown together with Qui-Gon nearly every day, for he had been deemed worthy of the royal tutors. They were not equals, yet Qui-Gon had never treated him as lesser. 

Sometimes, Obi-Wan had almost dared to dream of a world where Qui-Gon might be open to greater intimacy. 

He could never have dreamed this: a hot, devouring mouth on his, a rough hand burrowing under his tunics, a knee pressed between his legs and  _ up— _

Obi-Wan let out a burst of pent-up sound: a release of tension nearly a decade old, almost painful. He reached for Qui-Gon, but found his hands pinned to the wall instead. 

Qui-Gon broke away, barely an inch between them. “No,” he said softly. “You have no control here.”

Obi-Wan found himself forced up onto his toes, as if to underscore the point. 

He felt a smile spread across his face—cocky and daring. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan arched slightly against his captor. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

A low rumble started in Qui-Gon’s chest, and spread through Obi-Wan’s body. His hands clenched, his toes did their level best to curl. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. His scalp prickled as Qui-Gon leaned in and pressed a whiskery kiss to his neck. 

And then bit down. 

Obi-Wan cried out and ground against the hard-muscled thigh between his legs. He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to, certainly not when a large, warm hand unlaced his leggings and wrapped around his cock to help. 

He came back to himself, panting and clinging to his king. He felt undone, felt like he was radiating heat to all the world. 

Qui-Gon was barely disheveled. He lifted a hand to Obi-Wan’s face, still watching him intently, and traced a wet fingertip across his lips. Obi-Wan opened to it, and took the finger into his mouth without thinking. 

“I won’t apologise for marking you up,” he growled, giving Obi-Wan another finger to suck clean. “Everyone should know you’re taken.”

Obi-Wan shivered under the intensity of the man, and almost begged for him to continue. Qui-Gon saved him from that by kissing him, hard. 

Finally Qui-Gon released him. Obi-Wan didn’t move from where he’d been pinned, though he let his arms drop limply to his sides. 

“Concubine, hm?” Qui-Gon said, with a glint in his eye. “I do think that’s the best idea you’ve had in ages.” 

Obi-Wan shivered, but still couldn’t help grinning. “A body to warm your bed, a fighter to guard your back, a mind to help you strategise.” 

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” Qui-Gon mocked him. But it had that teasing lilt to it that Obi-Wan had long ago learned to interpret as feigned royal condescension. 

And then Qui-Gon turned serious. “I hope you’re right,” he said quietly. “I hope this works.” 

“It will,” Obi-Wan assured him. “But if it doesn’t—” 

_ I’m glad I got to have this moment with you, _ he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. 

And then Qui-Gon put a hand over his mouth. “I know,” he said, and kissed him—this time with such gentleness that the contrast made Obi-Wan’s knees weak, made him curl into Qui-Gon’s chest. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentines day!


	5. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edging

It’s almost as though they’ve been at this game forever. Obi-Wan’s body aches perfectly, brought to the peak and denied each time. It’s blindingly simple, really: 

_ Touch yourself. _

_ Count the strokes. _

_ Tell me when you’re close.  _

He does. 

And then there’s the fact that he can end this any time. Qui-Gon has given him that freedom: Obi-Wan can end this whenever he wants to. He has only to ask. Qui-Gon will calm him down if he wants to continue—distract him so he can start the game again—until Obi-Wan decides he’s had enough. 

He can end this. He just doesn’t  _ want _ to. 

“Show me.” 

Obi-Wan swallows nervously. He rearranges himself with care, angling his body until he faces the direction where he’s guessed Qui-Gon must be. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

He focuses on the drag of his knees on the fabric, and shivers. 

_ “Beautiful,”  _ Qui-Gon rumbles, his voice almost a caress on Obi-Wan’s skin. 

Obi-Wan can imagine a hand on his chest, trailing down his breastbone to rest on his stomach. He can’t help the fact that his muscles jump, body reacting to the memory his imagination conjures. 

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

_ No, _ Obi-Wan thinks instantly. But then,  _ Maybe. _

A dark laugh curls around him, in sound and in the Force. “Now,” Qui-Gon commands him, “touch yourself.” 

This is all so new to him. Not his Master, watching or instructing, but his Master  _ looking _ at him, frankly admiring his body. Devouring him with his gaze in a way that he’d devoured Obi-Wan with mouth and hands only hours before. 

Every echo of sensation, every sense memory and every fantasy is at Qui-Gon’s disposal. After all, every one of them is imprinted in Obi-Wan’s mind, now. It is an endless arsenal to draw upon, to drive the new Knight mad. 

Obi-Wan surrenders. He takes himself in hand, just this side of too light. He wants this to last, after all. His other hand comes up to cradle his balls, because he remembers how it felt to have Qui-Gon’s mouth there, and he needs  _ something. _

He feels the slow smirk in the Force before he hears it in that beloved voice. “Very good,” Qui-Gon tells him. “Are you nervous now?” 

Obi-Wan feels the heat of his flush spread down his chest. “No.”  _ But I— _

_ I need you, _ he wants to say. 

“I’m right here with you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon tells him. It’s true, but it’s not the same. “Start again. Count. Tell me when you’re close.” 

With a quiet whimper, Obi-Wan begins again, stroke upon numbered stroke.    
  



	6. "Hands behind your back."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight exhibitionism, semi-public sex

The world spins, and he finds himself pressed face-first into the wall, hands splayed on the cool surface on either side of his head. 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan laughs. The little spike of adrenaline sends his heart racing, even though he knows exactly who is looming behind him. He turns his head, basking in the warm, spicy scent of tea and green things. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the show.” 

“Well, then, perhaps you’ll be so good as to oblige me with an encore.” 

“If the incentive’s right,” Obi-Wan quips. 

“Hands behind your back.” 

There’s a delicious growl in that voice, and Obi-Wan’s stomach kicks at the sound. He folds his arms behind his back and smiles when he feels a large, warm hand effortlessly encircle his wrists. Another slides up into his hair, and closes tightly in it. Obi-Wan breathes out a pleased sigh at the pinpricks he feels all over his scalp, lets himself be positioned just the way Qui-Gon wants him. 

And then nearly jumps at the bite to his neck. 

“Quiet,” Qui-Gon warns him. He kicks Obi-Wan’s feet apart. “I haven’t even started with you yet.” 

“How quiet do you want me to be?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“Oh, I want you to sing for me,” Qui-Gon assures him. “I want everyone to know how much you like this, how much you want it, how much you  _ need _ it. But not just yet.” 

Obi-Wan shudders. There is a large body blanketing him, pinning his arms, freeing a hand to go wandering over the crest of his hip. Warmth bleeds through the leather, and Obi-Wan arches forward as best he can. Qui-Gon presses in still closer, so Obi-Wan can feel him hard against his ass. 

“What—” Obi-Wan gasps in a breath, almost drowning in that well-loved scent. “What happens first?” 

“Hmm…” Qui-Gon’s hand drags up, under his shirt. “Well,” Qui-Gon says, contemplatively pinching a nipple, then twisting his fingers. Obi-Wan hisses, and almost loses what Qui-Gon says next. “First, I get you off in an alley.” 

“O-oh,” Obi-Wan agrees, “all right.” 


End file.
